


Pre- and Post- Paintballing

by orphan_account



Category: Community
Genre: M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-20
Updated: 2012-05-20
Packaged: 2017-11-05 17:30:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/409116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Troy is a patient man, and Abed has always been prepared for a paintball war like this... Before and after moments set during 'Modern Warfare'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pre- and Post- Paintballing

**May 6th, 2010.**

The Dean, standing by the flag on a small stage: “Okay, if everyone who would like to be involved with the paintball game could take a gun from the crate.... There’s enough for the whole school, they were cheaper if we ordered in bulk--”

Two men fistbumped (which was easier to do than a handshake when your arms were overflowing with armour) and watched expectantly, like the rest of the student body playing the game. Interested to know what the prize was going to be.

“This is gonna be _awesome,_ ” Troy grinned. “I haven’t ever played a game this big!”

“I have,” his friend said distantly. He spoke with experience, suggesting that a great paintball battle like this was not a first occurrence over the course of Abed’s time. He turned to his counterpart. “Just to let you know, I won’t betray you until the very end. I couldn’t do that to you unless it came to sudden death.”

Troy nodded in understanding. “Me too, man. We’ll get through this without breaking anything we’ve got. I got your back.”

The Dean, nearing the end of his speech, leaned closer to the microphone. “I can tell you _now_ – because the original prize was stolen, and it was a teensy bit difficult to get material goods at such short notice, the prize is... PRIORITY REGISTRATION!”

The burble of the crowd died down. And then it was pandemonium.

Students were closing in, swarming upon the crate of paintball guns, trying to snatch a weapon whilst they still could. There was no chance in hell they were going to be able to get through _that_ , but only one of them knew it – one rushed forwards, grabbing his partner by the neck of his shirt and pulling him back. “They’re going to turn on each other,” Abed blurted out, “we’ve got to get out of here!”

“We haven’t got any guns!” protested the other, but they were already running. Sprinting down corridors, putting on various parts of their armour as they went.

“Where are we going?!”

“Here,” Abed shouted, stopping dead in his tracks against a line of lockers. Shots were echoing from out of the courtyard, the sounds weaving their way into the building. Drawing ever closer.

“Is this your locker?” Troy asked, bewildered.

“Yup,” Abed replied, spinning the combination dexterously. Inside was an arsenal of weapons: “The bat’s for a zombie apocalypse, but don’t worry about that,” he added, passing guns and ammo down into Troy’s astounded and awaiting arms.

He glanced at them. “I think I love you right now.”

They shared a look, before seeing brightly coloured bullets explode on impact around the. Abed pulled down his goggles, grabbed Troy’s arm, and then they were running again.

\---

It was difficult to describe action; you had to live it.

Therefore, after being shot in the cafeteria, Abed went outside to reflect – he was glad it was over for him. The adrenaline and stress of the whole damn match had been fun, but now he was exhausted and just wanted to go home.

“Abed!”

Troy came jogging over, still in armour – “I waited for you, man,” he said breathlessly. “Sorry you’re out.”

“You were out five hours ago. You waited all of that time?”

Troy was coated up and down in paint, assumedly from his time waiting out in the open, and being mistaken for someone who was still playing. He looked guiltily down at the floor. “I didn’t stick around for all of it. I got hungry and went to grab a bite to eat, but I came right back after that. I swear.”

Abed cocked his head in confusion. “I might have won. Then you would have been waiting here even longer. Maybe a day more.”

The response he received was punctuated by a tiny smile. “I’d have still been waiting for you. Wouldn’t have missed your victory for anything.” He looked down at the hems of Abed’s paint-stained uniform, slightly embarrassed.

It only took Abed a step to close the gap between them, connecting their lips firmly together; he imagined an Orbital Kiss, a 360º rotation around them, and held on to the shoulder pads of Troy’s armour even tighter. He was kissing his best friend in a slightly off-centre manner, sensing hands winding their way past his shirt front and entangling themselves into his collar, and it was fantastic. Sort of like a Victory Kiss, but strangely inverted, seeing as they had both lost and had taken quite a few hits.

The two drew back from each other, unable to tear their eyes away from one another, but also unable to coherently think enough to avoid awkwardness.

“...Here’s your gun back,” Troy mumbled nervously, not knowing what else to say. He tried to push it back into Abed’s possession, but the taller man raised his hand to push it back in refusal-

“It was always yours, Troy.”

He was kissed again, harder this time. Not breaking anything they had suddenly seemed a lot, _lot_ less important.


End file.
